Killing Floor


Verse:
In this circus we call life,
there's nothing subtle as a cold steel knife.
Take a walk through the streets of hell,
try and ignore the rancid smell.
Politically correct vipers, try and run your life,
while they stick and twist the corporate knife.

Chorus:
I told you once, or maybe twice,
killing you would be nice.
I'll be back and that's for sure,
to drop you dead on the killing floor.

Verse:
Pay those taxes, oh, forever more.
To house the needy and clothe the poor.
But when the poor becomes you,
You feel so wasted and run through.
And as the government gets bigger and bigger,
the time draws nigh to pull the trigger.

Chorus

solo/break

Verse:
I see a boy, lying out in the street,
shivering and cold, no shoes upon his feet.
I picked him up to comfort him,
his heart grew faint and his eyes grew dim.
I looked around for a little help,
But all I see was this living hell.

Verse:
These streets are littered with whores and pimps,
queers, fast talkers and wimps.
They ignore the cries of the weak.
Stepping over them,
they don't hear them speak.
They've created this monster from hell.
Will it last, only time will tell.

Chorus

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